


Have Yourself A Merry Little Sickness

by lady_blackwell



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:23:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5774989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_blackwell/pseuds/lady_blackwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the best-made proposal plans can't defeat Mother Nature. Angie learns that the hard way two days before Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have Yourself A Merry Little Sickness

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for supernovacharlie over at the Holiday Cartinelli Exchange who requested "I’d like something fluffy, preferably domestic.“ I hope you enjoy modern AUs, because I’m currently a sucker for writing them.

Wails came bubbling up from the back of Angie’s throat, coupled with hacking coughs and sneezes. Of all the time she had to come down with a cold, the day before Christmas Eve was the absolute worst.

She had never been anal-retentive about the holidays, but this Christmas was different. Angie had planned everything down to the last second. The morning was dedicated to finishing decorating their apartment, wrapping any last gifts they had overlooked, and ignoring Howard’s skype calls from Cancun, which would likely consist of him complaining about his lack of conquests. Their afternoon and evening would consist of Christmas Eve dinner with the rest of the Martinelli clan, including the annual snowball fight, followed by ice skating at the plaza (normally her mother would chastise them for skipping mass, but given that Father Marco had spent most of last Christmas Eve mass staring directly at her and Peggy while he preached about turning away from ‘active sinning’, Angie figured that this year they’d be off the hook). The night would end with the two of them going for a stroll in Central Park, where Angie, when the moment was right, would get down on one knee and propose to Peggy under the stars. And that proposal would make their Christmas Day perfect; Peggy normally didn’t gush or wax poetic about her affections, but telling close friends and family that you were getting married (on one of the most magical days of the year to boot) would melt even her girlfriend’s stiff upper lip.

So yes, this Christmas had to be nothing less than _perfect_. The diamond solitaire in the box hidden in their Dutch oven (a convenient hiding place given that Peggy’s only cooking skills consisted of toast, scrambled eggs, and soup from a can) ensured that.

Unfortunately, her immune system had the gall to heed her careful instructions, which was why Angie was currently sitting in bed, half coughing and half crying, while Peggy tried to feed her soup.

“Come on now, Angie,” Peggy goaded her as she pressed the spoon to Angie’s mouth, “I know it’s awful being sick, especially over Christmas, but you need to eat. It will make you feel better.” At that, Angie tried to stop crying, but one look at her girlfriend’s earnest and loving face made her burst into tears all over again.

“I’m sorry,” Angie wailed, “I just - I wanted this Christmas to be perfect, and now I’ve got this stupid cold, and it’s not going away, and now I’m going to spend it coughing my lungs out, and you have to spend Christmas taking care of me instead of having fun, and I can’t stop crying, and Christmas is ruined.”

“Oh my darling,” Peggy replied, placing the bowl on the bedside table and tugging Angie closer until the younger woman was curled up in her lap. “You haven’t ruined Christmas. Everyone gets sick this time of year, and while we may not be able to go to your parents’ house, we can always create our own Christmas here. I’m sure your family would be more than willing to help. So you see, hasn’t been ruined. It’s just been changed, that’s all.”

Angie sniffled and curled closer into Peggy, and the brunette shifted their position until both of them were lying on the bed, Peggy pulling the covers over both of them. Angie sighed and felt herself growing more exhausted as she continued laying on her girlfriend, and Peggy gently running her hand through Angie’s hair only served to make her desire for sleep stronger.

“You know you’re probably going to get sick if we keep cuddling like this, right?” Angie asked, not bothering to change positions. “

If I do, it will have been worth it,” Peggy replied, gently kissing Angie on the forehead as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 

Hours later, Angie woke up to the sound of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen. She flipped turned on the nearest lamp and scrambled out from under the covers, fearing that Peggy was trying to _actually_ cook for her, but sighed and slumped back into the pillows in near relief as she heard her mother’s voice drift down the hallway. Angie normally would have teared up in her fragile emotional state, but she felt she had already been wrung out during her crying jag, and instead felt an unnatural calm settle over her. Turning over, she shut her eyes in the hope she would drift back off to sleep, but she heard Peggy’s voice becoming clearer as she walked down the hallway and opened their bedroom door.

“Hello, my darling,” Peggy said as she entered the bedroom, closing the door and sitting on the bed next to Angie, “After you fell asleep I called your mother and explained the situation. While she may not be able to make us a last-minute Feast of Seven Fishes, she can make us breadsticks and lasagna.” Angie smiled and relaxed further into the pillows, but before she could thank her girlfriend she noticed Peggy was holding a small box. The engagement ring box she had hidden in their kitchen a week ago.

 _Oh shit_ , Angie thought as she shot up in alarm.

“H-how…” Angie started, but Peggy put up a hand to silence her.

“When your mother saw that I had made chicken soup from a can, she nearly had my head. She decided to teach me how to make her ‘miracle minestrone’ so that I would never have to subject you to sub-par soup ever again. While I warned her that my actually cooking the soup would end in failure, she was quite impressed with my knife skills,” Peggy said with a smile. Angie, on the other hand, fidgeted in silence, leading Peggy to sigh and continue.

“While I was preparing the vegetables, your mother got out one of the pots and, well, she found this in it. She got so excited and starting asking me all the details about when I bought the ring and how I was going to propose. Only I don’t remember buying a ring or planning a proposal for Christmas, though after all our discussions about marriage I was starting to think about doing one after the holidays. I told her, but I don’t think she believed me because she insisted that the ring was ‘a bit too simple’ for you. She swore up and down she would act surprised when we called and told your family the news, though I’m fairly convinced she’s calling your father right now to tell him.”

Angie could barely bring herself to look at Peggy as she snatched the box out of her lap. Peggy sighed in response, and leaned forward to take Angie’s hand into hers. “Darling, this why you were so adamant about wanting Christmas to be perfect? Because you were planning on proposing?”

“Yes,” Angie admitted reluctantly, “I wanted it to be magical. I wanted it to become a story we could tell our babies and grandbabies. I wanted to always remember how I felt when I saw you smiling in the snow, or crying tears of joy, and when I got sick I freaked out and felt I’d miss my chance to propose and make this the best Christmas we’ve ever had.” At that, both of them sat in silence, until Peggy spoke up again.

“Ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask me,” Peggy repeated with conviction, letting go of Angie’s hand, “I already you’re planning on doing it, I know what the ring looks like, and I’d hate to have to fake my excitement. You must have been planning this for months, and that includes what you were going to say. As I told you earlier, neither Christmas nor your proposal hasn’t been ruined. So please. Ask me to marry you?” Looking into Peggy’s eager and earnest brown eyes, Angie felt her heart flutter. Taking Peggy’s hand back into hers, she took a deep breath and began. “Margaret Peggy Elizabeth or Anne or whatever your middle name is because you’ve refused to tell me Carter,” she began, which caused Peggy to laugh, “When you first stumbled into my life at the L&L, I didn’t know what to make of you. Here was the most beautiful woman in the world standing in the dinky little diner where I worked. Then you had to open your mouth and order an Earl Grey with that ridiculous accent of yours, and I just fell head over heels with you. Then we started spending more time together, and then you moved into the Griffith, and I was that girl who fell in love with her straight best friend. Lucky for me, you weren’t as straight as I thought you were. I know this is the corniest thing I’ve ever said, and I say a lot of corny things, but every day we’ve been together has been the best day of my life. And if you’ll have me, I want to make every day you’re with me the best day of your life. I love you more than I’ve loved another person,” she said, letting go of Peggy’s hand and opening the ring box.

“I know I’ve rambled, and if I was able to get out of bed this is the part where I would get down on my knee. So, I guess the only thing I have left to say is, marry me?” Peggy launched herself forward, tangling her hands in Angie’s hair and kissing her deeply, their tongues tangling.

“Yes, my darling, a thousand times,” she exclaimed, pressing softer kisses to Angie’s lips between each word. Laughing, Angie broke away to try and put the ring on Peggy’s finger, but she was interrupted when Peggy sneezed violently. Twice.

“You know, if you get sick, you aren’t allowed to complain about it,” Angie said, finally managing to slip the ring on.

“If my getting engaged to you means I must bear with a cold, then it will be the best illness of my life.”


End file.
